


mirror image of a past self

by beepboopwriting



Series: 2Dace extravaganza!! [6]
Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort No Hurt, Insecurities, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, POV Second Person, reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-12 18:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16000748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepboopwriting/pseuds/beepboopwriting
Summary: Ace sorta dislikes what he’s been and what he may become. 2D disagrees.





	mirror image of a past self

Of course “cool” was only a persona— the days of living alone in a dump with no family other than your pals didn’t usually make you feel like the king of the world. Sure, you were the leader, and sure, you got a kick out of it, but you also were some kid sinking down to levels of petty crimes everyday just to feel like you could make it. You know you couldn’t help it; however, nobody ever said you had to be alright with it all.   
It kind of made you feel bad about yourself. You looked over your face and how sharp its features were. Your eyes were glazed over in the way they’d always been, a permanent pink eye visible from every angle. Well, they were unless you put on the shades that blocked the sun and your insecurities (maybe both) and have since you were thirteen. You couldn’t find them at the moment, so you continued to glare into the mirror and picked apart every aspect that made up the facade you carefully glued together for the public.

  
First, you analyzed your mysterious air. You didn’t talk, you replaced the former bassist, and man, wasn’t he a dick? Maybe you’ll end up like that if you let your old teen ways strangle you down the path again. Fame has a way of eating you alive, and there was always a chance you would taste like sex, drugs and rock n roll’s next victim. Maybe it’ll start a curse of Gorillaz bassists: if the second one becomes unhinged and loses all hope for himself like the first one did, it would be a backstage horror story for years. You shook that thought off or at least attempted to. You switched on the sink and you splashed your face with water in hopes it kicked you out of the mood. It didn’t, and you stared again. _You’re Ace, and you play bass. You were once a bad guy, but not anymore. Things have changed, and yous nothing anymore but a star._ You wish you had thought of that earlier, and way before any of the self doubt clouded your mind. Too late, though.  You sighed heavily as your whole body slouched. What’s wrong with keeping it in for a little longer?

  
Second, you analyzed your looks. Were you shallow? No. But were you pretty? _God, no._ Anything but, it seemed. You lived in a dump most of your developmental years, you refused to wear your hair without grease, your nails could cut through diamonds, your eyes were tired and weighed down with bags from your lack of sleep, and you felt as if you were overall ugly. It could even to a point of being unsightly, but you were too deep in self loathing at the moment to care about big words. You made eye contact with the reflection of your own eyes. They shifted to the side as yours did, following your every move. Of course they would, though. You poked at your sullen cheeks and traced your sharp face. Chasing after your own darting eyes wouldn’t fully dissolve you of your desire to punch the mirror hard enough to make your hand bleed. What you wouldn’t give to have your sunglasses right about now so your sight could at least be tinted when you viewed the injury. You looked back into the mirror, and it was as if your entire study was interrupted. The internal dramatic monologue was cut short as you realized your situation: you weren’t alone any more. Your gaze dropped from your figure (which you were about to tear apart for being less like sturdy wood and maybe more “like a damn Lincoln Log” in your own words) and you smiled softly towards the man who walked in.

“Ah, Ace. You almost done in here?” he said with a smile. He’s 2D. Well, Stuart, too, but the _public_ knew him as 2D and when you were in this anxious mood; well, you thought what the public thought. He was (and still is, thank whatever deity there is to thank for the gift of a human that was Stu) your boyfriend, and something about that made you feel guilty about standing there in your own self pity. You were caught and it was game over, kid.

“Oh, heh, yeah. Just cleanin’ up after the old shavin’.” You laughed, lying through your teeth. You were good at that, and with that was the guilt eating away at you again. Ha! You just lied! To your _boyfriend_ of all people! Sure, it was something small. You got that, sure, yeah, but your trash emotions didn’t seem to care and you started feeling your palms sweat up. _You did this when you were young. Are you seriously gonna try this again? Hm? Gonna lose it all?_ You thought with not even a smidge of redemption present in your mind. When it wanted to be, your anxiety was slightly demotivating. Or more than slightly— maybe even overbearing.

“Oh, funny.” 2D said, his nimble finger reaching up to trace the small whiskers above your lip and then leading his hand down to the stubble on your angled chin. He smiled again, and a little bit of your fears were quelled. You’d probably only admit it to him and yourself, but that smile could salvage even the worst of days. “You got me, bud.” He continued with a laugh, “but I like you like that. Do what you want, but ‘s soft.” He mentioned before he hugged your torso with affection.

“Heh, dunno why you think that,” you mutter, “it makes me look like I’m some skeevy drug dealer. These ain’t no regular whiskers, D, they’re alleyway whiskers.” You joke, and you knew somewhere deep down that it was a personal attack. Imagining it, you stopped for a second. Look, that’s what you could’ve become if you really thought about it. In fact, perhaps it was a better career choice— you, being the orphan delinquent you were, seemed much more suited to be selling crack to the addicted and needy than to be hitting the big time in some band you idolized. _Another low blow to yourself, huh? Don’t you know when to quit, Copular?_

“Aww, you’re bein’ harsh!” 2D claimed with another squeeze to your torso. He took it as a joke, but you knew it was anything but. You gazed at his closed eyes in the mirror, his head on your shoulder and looked at his arms wrapped around your stomach. You smiled again, but you realized that you couldn’t pretend anymore. Here Stu was, being the angel he always was, and you were standing in a self loathing daze that you wanted to break free of by any means necessary. You felt the need to spit it out, and you sighed heavily. Hopefully you wouldn’t regret it later.

“Well, bein’ honest isn’t the same as being harsh.” You said. “You ever look at me and think, Stu?”

“About what?” He questioned, sensing you were on somewhat of an edge, or maybe less of an edge and more like a ledge. Same peril, but much duller.

“Just think. I mean, have a look, will ya!” You laughed, your hand motioning towards your reflection. “It’s me.”

“Sure is.”

“And there I am in all my undeserving glory.” You said, your voice lowering as you spat out your perceived flaws. Your eyes shifted to look at 2D’s reflection in the mirror. He looked troubled, and you just _knew_ it’s because you started this.

“Oh, you. Don’t talk that way.” 2D started. “You’re worth all the praise you get.”

“Pfft, now you’re tellin’ the jokes.” You mumbled. You were immediately greeted with the feeling of a lump in your throat as you said it. _Huh_ , you thought, _you’re about to cry. Fun stuff!_

“Oh, stop it right now!” 2D urged, and those skinny arms of his turned you around to face him. You would’ve been concerned about whiplash if you weren’t already preoccupied with the look of concern on your boyfriend’s face. He squinted as he pieced together that you were almost ready to cry and that you were about to let out all the worries you’d held within you since you walked into the bathroom.

“Hard to stop when you know you’re nothing, or if you _are_ somethin’, it’s barely anything.” You coughed out. “Look at me, Stu. Look where I’ve been. I’m literally just some scumbag who grew up to be slightly less of one, somehow became mediocre at bass, and I’m here in some band I don’t _really_ belong in!” You ranted on, your hands shaking as you felt your throat close up. Your voice wasn’t as low as it was in usual conversation, and instead shook as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. _Now you’ve done it, bastard!_ Your mind cried out. It was laughing at you, not with you. _You let it out. Are you proud of yourself?_ “I’ve been lying to a whole lot of people, Stuart, and maybe I’m tired. I don’t deserve any of it. I’m not cool, I should’ve never become part of this, and I’m afraid I’ll fuck it up for myself somehow.” Your statement almost ended with your voice somewhat intact, but it was those ending words that closed in on themselves and broke the dam for good.

“Oh…” you heard 2D say with utmost worry. You couldn’t see him through the blur of the tears, and that alleviated you of your guilt a bit. You heard it, though, and that was enough to bring the guilt back. “Ace. No, no. You’re wrong about that. I’ve never thought that about you.”

“I never said you did, but doesn’t mean it’s not true.” You whispered. “You didn’t grow up like me, and I’m really happy you didn’t. But, when you’ve gone through the wringer like I have, you just don’t feel like you deserve the good things in life.” You said, feeling as your rough nails caressed against the dark bags under your eyes. Your attempts to dispel the tears failed almost every time; for one, nails are meant to be waterproof and therefore couldn’t get the wet, salty feeling off your face. The second thing to postpone you from drying off your face was him; your boyfriend seemed to want to wipe away the tears for you. His fingers felt cold against your warm eyes, and you could sense he felt the puffiness around them. It was a kind gesture.

“Yah, right. If anything, you most _definitely_ earned the right to a swell life! Take a look at yourself in that mirror again, Ace. Who do you see?” 2D said to you as he turned away to grab some squares of toilet paper to blot away your tears. After cleaning you up, he spun you around (gently, no whiplash this time) so that you were both looking at your reflections. You grimaced as you saw the aftermath of your crying spell.

“You n’ me.” You responded.

“Yep, us. And who do you see standin’ beside you, hm? I see some tall guy with a brain injury, cowardly tendencies and overall an absolutely pathetic git.” 2D said, his barrage of personal insults harming more you than him. You clutched your chest and shook your head furiously.

“No, why the hell would you think that? Stu, babe, you’re anything _but_ any of that. You’re wonderful! Listen, you don’t hafta bring yourself down to make me feel better—“

“I’ll stop once you stop.” He said to you, his arms crossed. “If you don’t see me as my flaws, I shouldn’t see you as yours. Neither should you. You’re a fine man, Copular.” 2D said to you. You felt the tears coming back as you listened on to his speech with balled fists. “Sure, you came from some tough places. Should you let it decide who you are?”

“...no.” You muttered, relaxing your hands. “No, I shouldn’t.”

“And should you let it decide who you’re gonna be?”

“...no. I shouldn’t.” You repeated.

“You’re right. You shouldn’t. Now, I ‘spose you can say what you want, but does it mean it’s right? No! Take it from me, love, I know what it’s like to be chained to your past.” He said, and he squeezed your hand in three short little bursts. You took it as an implicit _I love you_ , and your hand squeezed back four times, as you had to add a little “too” at the end of your declaration.

“I guess we both do.” You admitted finally, and you sighed a little before your free hand reached up to wipe at your eyes. You sniffled quietly.

“We do, but I don’t think it makes us who we are. Sure, you grew up in a dump and I got run over by a car ‘bout twice in my life.”

“Some tough shit.” You responded as you initiated the _I love you_.

“Yeah, tough shit.” 2D nodded. “But your past shouldn’t hafta tell you how to feel and who you are. You could see the worst person imaginable, and I don’t doubt that at the moment you might.”

“Maybe a little.” You say as you let go of his hand, and ruffled up your hair. Something about ruining it made you feel at ease. After your hands went back down to your sides, you heard a snicker and had your hands grabbed by the other man in the room and placed on his pale face. The sudden face to face of you two left you feeling vulnerable— he’d seen you cry, he heard you berate yourself, and yet he was still here.

“Dunno why you’re doin’ that, babe.” You said with a mix of laughter and exhaustion. “They’re all oily.”

“Don’t mind. It doesn’t make you worse. Sorry you’re feeling so down, Ace. I don’t know what to say much except that we as a group don’t think you’re unworthy of all this love. You’re never gonna be what you were again, no matter how much your mind wants to yell ‘hey! you’re gonna be what you were again!’” The last part of 2D’s sentence was spoken in a high pitched, teasing voice, and he spoke with his hands as he mocked the thoughts that plagued you. You couldn’t help it by this point, and you let out a laugh. You had almost forgotten what that felt like in the midst of your pity and overanalysis, and experiencing it practically dried the tears from your eyes. “Your mind is a liar. A jerk. Maybe a lil’ bit of a wanker, if you find the term funny.” He added on.

“You know,” you started, “maybe my thought’s a wanker. A big, fat, loser of a man.”

“Everything you’re not.” 2D assured. “Promise.”

“Heh, got some weird tastes if you’re legit having an emotional discussion about my mind bein’ a wanker with your lover. Never in my life did I ever think a thing like this’d happen.” You snarked, and 2D let out a laugh that practically cleansed you of all your negativity.

“Well, for me to make you smile like that? I’d do anything.” He said to you, leaning towards you slowly as an invitation to kiss you. Sure, maybe you were raised in a dump and you weren’t the new bassist you wanted NME to see you as, but at least the man you loved believed you were a good guy. He probably wouldn’t think otherwise for the rest of his life (unless you replaced his toothpaste with ointment again, but that was before the whole “I think I might actually wanna pursue a relationship with you” thing), and that raised your spirits. Leaning towards him, you allowed the kiss to take place. He removed your hands from his face and wrapped your arms around his waist for you, and you muttered a thanks in your mind. His own arms made their way to wrap around your shoulders, and you pulled him closer in. You felt sturdy doing this. You felt strong doing this. You felt adored doing this. Most importantly, though, is that you felt _cool_ doing this. You were kissing your love and felt that you two successfully kicked the intrusive thoughts of insecurity’s ass. That enough was able to curb your thoughts, and you were content.

**Author's Note:**

> “write something other than 2Dace!”  
> haha, no. it is my forte and i will write it until the day i die. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed !! <3 feel free to leave kudos, comments and bookmarks !!


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